


Eleven Moments

by ladyflowdi



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-18
Updated: 2007-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflowdi/pseuds/ladyflowdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moments of Sam Carter’s life, both on Earth and on Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleven Moments

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before Sam came over to SGA at the end of the series. I like my version of her better. Part of my LJ-to-AO3 project.

1.

Jack O’Neill died on a Tuesday. 

They were supposed to meet him for Team Movie Night, ironically named only because they rarely watched movies anymore. Daniel always brought the wine, being the only one among them who didn’t mind dropping big bucks on liquor. Jack brought the chips and his Heart Burn Salsa, Teal’c brought the video they didn‘t watch (he’d rented Star Wars a total of three hundred and eighty nine times), and Cam brought himself, all six feet of hot-shot flyboy swagger.

They’d sit on the floor of Sam’s giant living room, Jack’s bones creaking, Daniel complaining about his old dig injury which he insisted was _not_ a graceless fall into a test pit, thank you. They’d drink wine until they were all pleasantly buzzed, enough to loosen tongues that distance and work had tightened. They’d gossip like girls and eat until pizza was coming out of their ears. 

Sam should have known when he didn’t call, but he was _Jack O’Neill_ for crying out loud. He’d always been a little quirky, and ten years battling space aliens had only accentuated that trait. 

They found him stretched out on his sofa. There was a beer on the coffee table in front of him, a bowl of peanuts, and the remnants of a TV Guide sacrificed to his obsessive paper airplane making habit. The fifth season of the Simpson’s on DVD played on the TV. He was wearing the sweater Sam had gotten him for Christmas some years before, the same he claimed to hate with unending passion that managed to _somehow_ show itself very year when the weather turned cold. 

He died like he’d have wanted, in his socks, comfortable and warm in his home. There were no signs of struggle, no indication that he may have been awake when he had the stroke. One hand had been pillowed under his head, the other resting on the distinguished General gut he’d cultivated. It was as if he was just taking a nap.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of settling Jack’s affairs and taking care of Daniel. He never said anything because he was _Daniel_ , but he‘d been sensitive once, a long time ago before the years had taken their toll. He tried to hide it behind the macho veneer he wanted everyone to think he had, but Daniel was all shields Sam had long ago learned to read through.

She held Daniel’s hand through Jack’s funeral, and hated him a little for making her the strong one.

“Colonel Carter?”

The bright blue and black streak of subspace moved past the window faster than her eyes could track. It swam into one steady streak of color, not unlike the old Next Generation episodes when Picard would gaze quietly out of the window in the Mess hall looking for some unknown inner peace. She felt like Picard, trapped in the red and black of command, looking into the unknown.

Dwight Smith was a good guy, and Sam was sure he was excellent at what he did. As Caldwell’s Second in Flight Command, there was no one Sam trusted more with weapons systems and propulsion. She’d also seen turnips with more personality. “Lieutenant.”

Smith shifted uneasily, looking from her Jello, which was little more than blue water in her bowl, to her face. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but Colonel Caldwell wanted you to be the first to be informed when we reached the edge of the solar system.”

He’d said as much three days prior. “How long until we reach Atlantis, Lieutenant?” she asked, and rose with her tray. 

“Four hours, ma’am, but we’ll be in beaming distance in two if you’d like to debark early.”

Two extra hours of McKay was two more than she really needed -- but. There was something to be appreciated about an alien ocean, and she was longing for the cool breeze on her face and the salt on her skin more than she cared to admit. 

“Colonel Caldwell ordered a series of checks upon arrival,” Smith continued, hands tucked professionally behind his back. 

Sam wondered if Smith had ever gotten laid as a teenager, Smith with his hands tucked professionally behind his back, eyes bright and alert and no deeper than a puddle. He had to have had a soul once, before the USAF beat it out of him. She had a sudden image of him as he might have been in high school, suit tie, tight jeans and all. “I wonder if you had big Journey hair, too.”

She was aware Smith was staring at her, but Sam had twelve years of Jack O’Neill under her belt and he’d have been proud of her for keeping his tradition of seemingly completely random comments alive. 

2\. 

 

The low, aching keen that had come out of Daniel when they found Jack had taken Sam’s broken heart and smashed it under its heel, had stolen the air from her chest and the tears from her eyes. He never cried throughout the entire ordeal, not once, but Sam thought that maybe it would have been better if he had. Anything would have been better than the sounds he’d made, like a dying animal, low and choked and so full of pain that Sam hadn’t slept for days, hearing it on repeat in her head. 

 

3.

Atlantis was as Atlantis always was, all smooth walls and alien architecture that nonetheless felt strangely familiar, like the inside of a long time friend’s house. 

All the gate room techs were the same, more or less, wearing a mishmash of the old uniforms and the new that reminded Sam a little of those first few years at the SGC. She felt an unexpected pang of jealousy so sharp it burned in her breast, and it took her a moment to find her smile again. Then she remembered she didn’t have to smile if she didn’t want to, and didn’t bother with it.

Dr. Weir came down the steps from the control room, hands clasped sedately in front of her. For a minute Sam almost didn’t recognize her because Weir had different hair, really god _awful_ hair that was part mullet and part curled monstrosity Sam was surprised no one has called her on. Maybe Rodney had finally leashed that tongue of his. “Dr. Weir,” she managed. She was mourning, but there were some things even Jack wouldn’t have said. 

“Colonel Carter,” Weir said, smiling, and the tension Sam had felt coiling in her gut tightened just a little. Jack was tucked carefully under her arm. Weir caught sight of him and her eyebrows furrowed softly, enough to convey the right amount of grief and sympathy that was both comforting and vaguely insincere. Sam wasn’t offended, though -- at the end of the day, Weir was still a politician. “My deepest sympathies. General O’Neill was a good man.”

“Yes he was,” Sam said, because it was the truth. “You received my transmission?”

“We did,” Weir said, and motioned her along with her up to her office. “All the arrangements are ready for you,” she said, the delicate slope of her brow furrowed despite herself. “General O’Neill could never be called boring.”

Weir didn’t know him and had no right to say anything like that. Jack _had_ been boring, in his own eccentric way. He’d had a routine so domestic it had bordered on mind-numbing. It had just included space aliens. Sam didn’t say so, though, because she had the strange feeling if she opened her mouth everything was going to come spilling out, including Sam’s reaction to Weir’s unfortunate hairdo, and she wasn’t ready to alienate the entire Pegasus expedition just yet. 

Weir may have sensed her hesitation, because she waved a hand gently out towards the main floor, where beyond the gate the glass windows showcased a stunning view of the ocean. “Colonel Sheppard should be here any moment to -- and there he is,” she said, cutting herself off with the merest hint of a smile on her lips. 

There he was, all right, stumbling into the gate room like a puppy; a bored, slouching puppy with a spring in his step. His hair was wild and not even remotely regulation. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least a day, but it was evening Atlantis time, so it may have been just a bad five o’clock shadow. Still, he looked younger than he did last time she saw him, smooth skin and sweet bright green eyes that hid the brilliant tactician and bat-shit insane military commander he really was under the Texas charm. Sam had read the reports, and she knew about the Wraith reverse feeding, but seeing the evidence was different than simply reading it on paper. He looked like a thirty something, a _young_ thirty something, when he was creeping over the edge of forty.

Still, the physical change in Sheppard was nothing compared to the surprise of his companion. She noticed now that they’d come in from a mission in the last hour. They were still in their flack vests, weapons and all, and they looked tired but happy. 

She hadn’t seen Rodney in over a year and a half, nothing more than the briefest flash of his face in the video transmissions he made for the SGC sometimes when describing Ancient tech he was sending the specs for. She’d noticed the changes in his face, but didn’t think it had been anything like this.

She scrounged up a smile for them as they crossed the bridge into Weir’s office, because they were arguing, loud and long, hands and faces and rolled eyes, and they reminded her so much of Jack and Daniel that she almost couldn’t help it. Sam enjoyed it for the few moments it took for Rodney to realize she was standing there. 

He blushed, actually _blushed_. It was enough to make a girl feel special, and she smiled at him, eyebrow arched. “No hello, McKay?”

Rodney had been handsome before, but she could now see the charisma of the tilt of his chin, the beauty in his crooked smile. It had been seven years since she’d seen him like this. He’d had more hair then, of course, but the shock he wore it in made him look even younger than he had at thirty two. There was an innocence in his face he didn’t have before. Maybe it had been masked under something else -- she didn’t know. All she _did_ know is that he’s lost more than weight in the last several months, and not all of it was for the bad.

“I… yes, of course,” he said, eyes wide and blue. Out of her peripherals she could see Sheppard rolling his eyes, and her smile got wider as Rodney babbled for a moment in his typical Canadian way before he managed, “Hello, and our sincerest sympathies.”

She acknowledged that with a tip of her head Teal’c had perfected long ago. “Colonel Sheppard.”

“Colonel Carter,” he said, and shook her free hand. He didn’t look at the urn in her arms once. “Welcome back, even if it isn‘t under the best of circumstances.”

“It’s good to be back.” She didn’t bother saying that she was pretty sure it was for good. Weir knew, but Sam just couldn’t deal with a McKay-sized freak out right now. She looked out the glass windows instead. “The Daedalus should be here in an hour or so. Daniel’s with me.”

Daniel, who’d become a ghost of his former self, who’d aged twenty years in one instant. It was why they were coming here to begin with. Jack had always known him best, _always_. 

“That’s good, because we need a better linguist than Elizabeth, no offense (“None taken,” Weir said with a roll of her eyes) to check out some paneling we found in the new section of Atlantis the Replicators repaired,” Rodney said, all at once, his words fast and stumbling over one another. There wasn’t arrogance in his face like she expected -- it was as if he only said it because it was expected of him. It was the oddest thing, like all of Rodney’s rough edges had been smoothed away. His eyes were warm and blue, open. Rodney, yet not Rodney at all. 

Maybe Weir saw the surprise in her face, though Sam knew she’d carefully masked it, but it was hard to hide things from another woman. Weir saved her from saying something potentially embarrassing by smiling and coming to stand next to her. “Why don’t we get Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson settled in first, Rodney, before we put them to work?” Weir asked, giving him a tolerant look Sam recognized. She’d seen it on General Hammond’s face enough times. “Then you can show off to your hearts content.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose,” Rodney said, looking disappointed and chastised at the same time. 

Sheppard rolled his eyes, and Weir smiled, but Sam could tell that it, too, was only for show. Sam couldn’t help herself when she said, “It finally happened. Took you all long enough.”

Weir blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Rodney and Sheppard looked equally as surprised at her words, but Sam didn’t bother explaining herself. She hefted Jack a little higher up in her arms, and slung her bag over her shoulder, and waved a hand. “Lead on.”

 

4\. 

An early cold snap took hold of Colorado Springs the night of Jack’s viewing. Sam stood outside with Daniel under the porch awning of the funeral home, watching the snowflakes fall in the gold light of the soft glass windows. Daniel wore the dark suit, the same he’d worn to Janet’s service. Then he’d been so handsome, in all his misery. Now it was as if he were a different man, pale and dark and _old_. 

“How long, Daniel?”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a long time. Sam didn’t think he was going to answer her, but that was Daniel for you, always full of surprises. “Since the beginning. Before we met you, on that first trip to Abydos.”

She’d guessed, but the reality was so much worse. “Did you love him?”

He was quiet again. In the distance car tires squealed. It was too wet to be driving on ice-slick roads. Finally he turned to her, eyes dark in the shadow of the awning, highlighted pale by the glow of the lights inside. “I think everyone who met Jack loved him. I was just lucky he loved me back.” He looked at her. “Neither of us ever meant to hurt you, Sam.”

She was ashamed, because she _was_ hurt, and like always he dashed all her expectations with his honesty, the kind that reached his eyes like it hadn‘t it years. She wasn’t mad at Jack, either, because he’d been so… _Jack_. The pieces of Sam that had eaten away at her, burning a hole in her stomach, eased. She hated Daniel and loved him in equal measure, because he was her family and that’s what family did. 

“Daniel Jackson. Colonel Carter.” Teal’c, from the door, beautiful in his dark clothes.

They walked in together.

 

5.

Sam met Teyla two days after she and Daniel arrived in Atlantis. She and the other man on Sheppard’s team, Ronon Dex, had been on a trading expedition that had benefited without Sheppard’s brass in the background, and she’d scored twenty bushels of bena fruit and four nu-nu’s that looked remarkably like cows, only with orange tusks. 

Teyla was beautiful, with bold, and bright, stunning features. So was Ronon for that matter. He was handsome, dangerous; like a feral cat, all claws and hair and teeth ready to take a bite out of you at a moment’s notice. He didn’t say much, but Sam had a little experience with the tall, dark, quiet types. Ronon was almost innocent where Teal’c wasn’t, though, and she found herself having to hold in the laughter time and time again during breakfast when he kept imitating the Marines in their more impolite turn’s of phrase. 

Still -- they were both kind in their own ways, alien yet distinctly not. Teyla in particular was one of the most civilized people she’d ever met, quietly dignified and kind. She was everything the apes around her weren’t, and Sam found herself asking before she could stop herself, “How do you do it everyday, Teyla?”

Teyla closed her eyes as Ronon let out a rip-roaring burp. The Marines at the next table exploded with laughter. Sheppard gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up from the chow line. “With reserves of patience I did not realized I possessed,” she said warily, as the Marines all echoed Ronon with varying degrees of loudness. “It is, as Dr. Weir has said many, many times in the past, impossible to take the boy out of the man.”

Sam smiled at her. “I don’t know if I would,” she said, and belched as loudly as she could. 

 

6\. 

Within three days of arriving in Atlantis, some of the pallor finally left Daniel’s cheeks. He was talking again; not much but more than he had been, and for that Sam was grateful. There was a new kind of life in his eyes when he talked to her at their shared meal times, as he told her about some new translation or another McKay had been making him do. 

Jack had always known what was best for Daniel. He’d sacrificed for him to the end. 

 

7.

Everything would have been fine if Rodney wasn’t ignoring her.

She thought at first that he was doing it out of respect for her loss, which had seemed a ridiculously old fashioned and _Rodney_ thing to do. When a week passed and he hadn’t gotten within fifty feet of her, she thought that maybe Weir had finally told him she was staying, and he was defending his territory like a bull dog. That, too, seemed a Rodney type of reaction to a new situation, but whenever she managed to catch his eye or speak to him in the hall he was the epitome of politeness. It was like they were strangers, like he hadn’t pursued her for years, like they weren’t colleagues and yes, friends. She was strangely hurt by the whole affair, which surprised her more than she’d thought it would.

The old Sam wouldn’t have said anything. She was professional to a fault, an uppity blond bombshell of a woman with more confidence in her pinky toe than some people had in their whole body. She was a woman playing a man’s game, a woman who had balls of steel strapped to her formidable, yet practical cotton panties.

The new Sam, the _real_ Sam maybe, had lost all the skills the old Sam had possessed in dealing with people. It was like when Jack died he’d taken her masks with him and left her raw. Rodney’s detached avoidance of her was like rubbing salt in her wounds. 

She knew, however, that asking him directly what the hell his problem was wouldn’t go well. Not because Rodney would yell, but because he’d do the opposite, so she did the only thing that came naturally. She went to see Sheppard.

It wasn’t too terribly difficult to find the main gym. She heard it before she saw it, and smelled it a moment after that. It was sweaty man, grunts of impact, the crash of wood, and steaming breath. Ronon looked part animal already, with the hair, complexion and skin -- like a lion in a gilded cage. This was his natural habitat, with the thrill of the fight in his pale eyes, a smirk on his handsome face. 

Sheppard, on the other hand, looked ridiculously skinny and white in comparison, like a house cat next to Ronon‘s monstrous feline fury. Air force pilots weren’t supposed to know how to fight and they were hopelessly outmatched, Ronon and he. Sam had an inkling Sheppard already knew this, and she applauded his courage (and sheer male stupidity) to keep coming back and facing a man fifteen years younger and at least fifty pounds heavier. 

It took an embarrassingly short time for Ronon to have Sheppard flat on his back, and though he may have looked thirty five at the most, those were still forty year old bones being pounded into the mat. Sam winced, scrunching an eye at Ronon, who looked up at her with what could only be called sheer masculine pride, gloating without saying a word. 

“Ouch,” she offered.

Sheppard rolled his head her way, still wincing, but choked off the loud groans he’d been giving. She could tell they were stuck behind his teeth, and smiled when she leaned over and gave him a hand. With Ronon’s help they both had him on his feet again, and Sheppard bounced on his heels, though she could tell what it cost him. _Men_. “Colonel Carter. Uh, Ronon I think we’re done here,” Sheppard said, hands on his hips. “I’ll teach you that… karate thing next week.”

“Karate thing?”

“Karate thing,” Sheppard affirmed, ignoring Ronon’s incredulous look, and motioned Sam to follow him as if she hadn‘t just witnessed Ronon wiping the floor with him. “What brings you here, Colonel? Looking to get into a little stick fighting? Teyla said you were pretty interested the other day.”

Sam offered him a smile she could feel twitch brittle at the edges of her mouth. Her fingers tightened together in front of her. “Not exactly. I wanted to talk to you, but if you’re busy, I can…” She motioned at the door behind her.

“No, no, that’s fine. Ronon and I are done for today.” He lowered his voice, leaning in close. He smelled vaguely of spice, alien in his own way. “He’s jealous of Dr. Cho. The man is like Jackie Chan, only with less hair. He’s got moves a man twenty years younger couldn’t pull off.”

“Ah,” Sam said, though she had no idea who Dr. Cho was, and even if she did, she doubted Sheppard could teach Ronon anything remotely like it. 

“What is it you wanted to talk about?” 

“Rodney.”

“Ah,” Sheppard mimicked, though not unkindly. He pulled out a water bottle from his back and swung a towel over his neck. “What is it you’d like to know?”

So much. “For a man so ridiculously unsubtle, he’s driving me nuts,” Sam said, walking with him out the door. They passed Marines coming into the room, kids no older than twenty five at the most. Sam had been twenty five once, and biting for an adventure. She didn’t begrudge them their enthusiasm, but God, she wished she could pass on the wisdom. “He’s said all of two words to me since I’ve been here. I thought, since you’re his team commander…”

“I could help?” Sheppard shook his head. It was more than spice. Something familiar and warm, too, a mixture of scents. “Rodney uses up enough oxygen for two people just talking every day, but…” He shook his head again, rubbing the towel over his ear. “Sometimes the stuff that’s important doesn’t make it past everything else.”

“All smoke and mirrors, for a man so brutally honest.”

He looked at her a little oddly. “Something like that.”

“I’m sure Dr. Weir has told you Daniel and I are staying.”

“She may have mentioned it.”

Or had a full staff meeting. “Then I’m sure she’s also said that we’re consultants here in the strictest sense.” She tipped her head at him. “Don’t think I’m being too forward or anything, but you’re what, thirty five?”

Sheppard looked at her, eyes hooded. “Thanks for that.”

She smiled. “I’m forty two this year, Colonel. I’ve been doing this for twelve years now, fifteen if you count my research at Area 51. I’ve done more with my life than I ever thought possible. And yes, this is Atlantis, not exactly prime retirement real estate, but you have to understand. I’m not here to steal anyone’s job; not Rodney’s, not yours, not Weir’s. I’m here to settle Jack’s affairs, take care of Daniel, and maybe play with some ancient technology.”

Something minute relaxed in Sheppard’s face, and instantly she realized that he’d been worried about her presence as much as Rodney was. She felt suddenly bad, worse than bad for making them suffer for over a week, without knowing her true purpose here. “You’re right. Not the ideal place to retire, but hey, who else can claim the view we’ve got?” Sheppard asked, all charm, but she could sense his relief. He may have been a year or two younger than her but he might as well have been those Marines, young and eager and chomping at the bit.

“Had lunch?”

“No, I have not,” Sheppard said, and smiled. He thrust out a hand. “I’m John.”

“Sam,” she said, and smiled right back.

 

8.

“Goddammit, McKay, you’re not listening to me!”

“Oh, I’m listening, I just find it hard to believe that you haven’t yet died of _stupid_ ,” Rodney snapped, nostrils flaring. His hair stuck up on end, accentuating his widow’s peak. “How the hell do you get up every morning, huh? Do you have to leave yourself a post-it note so as to not drown in your own shower?”

“Oh don’t start with me,” Sam snapped right on back, crossing her arms. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”

“You are not right! You are so far from right that right has migrated southward for winter! Right is cruising this planet’s god forsaken polar ice cap _right now._ You sent it there, without a jacket or nourishment!”

God, he was so infuriating. Sam hadn’t felt so invigorated since… since longer than she could remember. “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

“And now we move into the sixth grade insults portion of today’s program,” Rodney said, throwing up his hands. He forgot he was holding a dry erase marker and it went flying, clattering somewhere behind them. Sam had to hand it to him, at least Rodney had the minions properly trained. No one said a word, except Radek, who hummed happily from her left. “Would you just listen to me for a second? This formula here, here and -- where the hell did my -- thank you,” Rodney snapped, as a new marker was slapped in his hand by a helpful little Japanese woman. “here all demonstrate how very deeply, completely and devastatingly _wrong_ you are,” Rodney snapped, big circles of red on her neatly written equations. 

She smirked. If John was a young soldier chomping at the bit, Rodney was like a boy in University who knew everything and still had so much growing up to do. She gracefully circled three parts of her formula, pushed the second board over, and motioned a hand. 

Rodney went silent. The only way she could tell she’d scored was when his ears went pink. For one instant she wanted to lean over and lick them.

“Hmm.”

“”Hmm”?” Sam parroted, eyebrow arched. “What was that? “I’m so sorry, Dr. Carter, you are a brilliant goddess among mortal women, and I beg your forgiveness”?”

Rodney glared at her, but his eyes were bright and blue and wounded and amused, all at once. “You’re still wrong.”

“But in the grand scheme of things, you can see that I may be off, but I’m not _wrong_.”

“Entirely,” Rodney allowed. He stared at the boards for a moment, contemplation on his face, before his shoulder blades itched and he looked over at his minions, staring at him like stunned guppies, and Radek, a cat who got the cream. “Disperse,” he hissed, and they did so.

 

9\. 

They let the portion of Jack’s ashes Sam had brought with her go on Christmas day. They did it from the back of the Jumper, out over the ocean of Atlantis. The other portion was buried next to his son in Colorado Springs. It was a little like Jack’s life had been, split, two sides always pulling and neither side ever winning.

Daniel still didn’t cry, but Sam did. She waited until they were back on Atlantis, and after she‘d made small talk with Weir, and after a meal, and then she went back to her room and cried until she was sick. When she couldn’t stand her solitude for a second more she went to Rodney’s door.

He gave her the stiffest drink they’d stilled on Atlantis that first year, the fermented fires of hell in a glass. It just made her puke more, but he held her hair back, and it just made her cry more, but he held her through that too, awkwardly, but _there_ and that was what counted.

They put on Dr. Who after that, and ate M&M’s, and drank more of that hellish shit. She sat beside him on a bed that smelled of spice and something familiar and warm.

After four episodes she said, “Fuck me, McKay.”

“No.”

God. “Fuck me, or I’ll go find someone who will.”

“No you won’t. I don’t think you can even _stand_ at this point. Plus, no offence, but you smell like puke and M &Ms, and you look like you got into a fight with a cat and lost. Your makeup has run halfway down your neck. Even Sheppard, who has ridiculously low standards for such a pretty boy, wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

It infuriated her, humiliated her, and made her love him just that much more. 

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said, and offered her the M&M bag. 

They watched Dr. Who until the sun was coming up over the edge of the horizon, until Sam finally passed out in the warmth of Rodney’s pillows. She smelled _John_ , and breathed in deep.

 

10.

The Wraith celebrated the creation of their new cloaking technology by attacking in February. The gym where she and Teyla had been stick fighting, and where Teyla was happily kicking her ass, exploded around them. Sam survived. Teyla did not. 

Sam was unconscious through a two week siege the likes of which had only previously been in someone’s worst nightmares. She would read it in the senior staff reports later, about their courage and ingenuity, and she would see it, in the portions of Atlantis that had been destroyed before an alarm had ever been raised. Good people had died, honest people, people who Sam had grown close to. More had been fed upon, and even more had been taken.

She woke up sixteen days after being unceremoniously blown up. It was a Wednesday, March 7th. She knew it was March 7th because Daniel was eating chicken soup over his laptop, and he had the calendar on his desktop. When he noticed her watching him he raised a hand in greeting with that slow, hazy look of the incredibly drugged. He was bandaged from his left temple down to his left wrist, and the charred flesh was more than visible around the bandages. “Hey,” he said, but didn‘t smile. 

She didn’t know it then, or for the days afterward, but her time as a consultant was over. The gate bridge had been destroyed, as had half of Atlantis. Hundreds were dead and wounded. The Daedalus had been plucked from the sky like so much trash, and Colonel Caldwell and his crew had been killed instantly. The debris from the ship was still rocking up against Atlantis with the waves. 

Elizabeth had been on Earth when the Siege began. There, Sam knew, she would remain.

The last thing she could remember was eating a sandwich in the Mess hall with Ronon, enjoying one of his stories about Satedan opera. She’d gone from that to becoming commander of a military base in another galaxy instantly. Nothing had ever scared her more in her life.

 

11.

They never did talk to Earth again. 

The repairs were done, the wounded healed, and Atlantis patched up; they’d counted their dead, held memorial services for them and for the crew of the Daedalus, and collected the debris from the ocean. She’d told John mere days after arriving that she would never take anyone’s job, that she was here to retire, yet here she was, forty three years old and in charge of an entire military base. Maybe the last people of Earth. There was something important in that, something she couldn’t turn away from no matter how tired she was.

Life went on. There were discoveries to be made, sciences to discover, maths to play with. They found that cache of ZPMs Rodney had been sure was around here _somewhere_. John and Rodney moved in together under the cover of darkness and no one knew about it for months. They appointed Daniel head of the Life Sciences department. Sam dated Zelenka for a while, and then Burton, and then Lorne. People got married, babies were born. They discovered a series of ships at the polar regions of the planet (where ‘right’ had gone and set up shop), class A Ancient war ships that Rodney took great pleasure in bringing back to full power, so long as he didn’t remember he was under water. The Wraith attacked, as they always did. People died and people lived, on and on and on. 

They never did talk to Earth again. So many scenarios, each one worse than the last. Maybe Jack had known. Maybe that was why he’d sent her here to this asshole of the universe. Maybe.


End file.
